Finality
by skrewtkeeper
Summary: When it is time for you to die, what do you think about? An analysis upon the word 'last'. MMAD.


_A/N:__ If you wish to drown (literally drown) in fluff, then be my guest. I, for one, shall not stop you..._

**Finality**

The realization dawned slowly, as if his conscious feared to acknowledge that the undeniable fact lived, breathed, existed. Somehow, this delayed contemplation of the effect of his departure did not surprise him at all… On the contrary, he knew this level of difficulty was far greater than anything he had faced before, and not because his last goodbye was imminent. No… the pain it would cause was almost too great to ponder upon, nearly too destructive to think about in all entirety.

He decided then; to approach her and hope and wish for the best that could not be given. He was determined. He was wrought. He had made his decision final.

But that grace, that beauty… It was indeed, the death of him in every way imaginable. He found her and admired the grace and subtle femininity she exuded without even knowing it. Her very beauty called out to him to claim it. He reached in his mind for her, and she looked up at once, holding his eyes in a tug-of-war. He stared, and she stared back, but gone was that desire, that desperateness to inform her of how and why he was needed elsewhere. She would know in time. Spoiling their last evening together would only make the pathway difficult, and prevent him from pursuing at all… She was his light, but now she was also his darkness…

"Is there something bothering you, Albus?" She questioned so softly, so warmly, so elegantly, it boggled his mind. She was so precious, so pure. No, there was nothing wrong.

"No, my dear," he said soothingly, banishing the fears clouding her eyes of freshest greenery. "I have just become lost in my thoughts…"

She smiled… Those great smiles that were worth more than galleons could buy. The smile was sweet, soft, so Minerva… It was the last of its kind he would see.

He smiled back, relishing in the feeling of every particle in his lips, his mouth, his face as he did so. How did he not realize such grandness in waking to a morning with a sunrise? Life was beautiful. It was only a shame that he did not realize this sooner…

"Would you like me to bring you back to the present?" she inquired. Albus watched in awe as her lips moved over every single word, every letter, every sound, every consonant, every vowel… He gazed with love and adoration pooling into the skylights of his soul. He observed her lips curling upwards into a coy smirk, and his insides were lit on fire; tonight was their last night. Fire would burn again.

Albus nodded gently to the query, eying the way his silver hair flowed like the wind when he did that. That was his last nod; he knew it and he beamed more brightly.

Minerva stood from the place at her desk with such elegance. Her robes conformed to this essence of beauty before him, and he thanked Merlin above for a woman like Madam Malkin. Minerva was exquisite in her everyday robes, as always.

She took her time approaching him, and Albus felt his heart melt at the notion; she knew him so well. She sensed his moods and tended to his needs before her own. He smiled as he admired the way her robes brushed gently upon the flagstone floor; her heels forgotten behind her. She reached him before he could observe further, and she pressed the first dainty digit to his lips before the middle followed suit. His lips moved beneath her touch, and he eased her two fingers into his mouth, kissing each one with his tongue. The smile on Minerva's lips grew to rival his own. Without a word, Albus pulled her fingers from his mouth and gently pulled her forearms to him, urging her to draw nearer. Minerva obliged him without preamble, and she was fully in his arms again.

This last embrace, (Albus smiled), this last, beautiful embrace was the best one he had ever experienced. Perhaps it was because he noticed Minerva relax instantaneously when his hands came to rest upon her back, or the fact that she sighed aloud as he rubbed her shoulders, her back, her neck… Her appreciation for his attentions gladdened his heart tenfold. He pressed her body into his firmly for but a moment before releasing her and bringing both of his hands to the very apples of her cheeks. They stared into one another's eyes, and Albus acknowledged the last stare of love in his mind as he traced the fullness of her cheeks before moving on to the wrinkles that did not even begin to match his own.

Minerva did not leave him unattended; she held his own face in own of her own hands as he administered the last kiss they would share (which increased exponentially; every last was a new first) and acknowledged her love for him in her own endearing manner. She moaned into his mouth as he coaxed her tongue into his. He pulled her closer to his body, warmed by her and softened by her, and delighted in the well-known fact that she was even softer than she appeared.

The kissing stopped at last, and Albus rested his chin atop her head as she gathered air in gasps. "Minerva," Albus whispered, a deep ache lacing his voice, "it has been far too long." Minerva nodded against him, sighing as he brushed the unknowingly shed tears from her face. He lifted her with an ease that surprised the both of them, and they both laughed melodiously through the journey, though Albus paused for a moment to notice the way Minerva nestled closer to his chest, sighing as she discovered the hidden heartbeat within him. This was their last night and the last time he would ever carry her in this way…

She was on the bed first; decorum planned it this way, though Minerva rolled her eyes as she doused the lights with a faint whisper. Albus grinned as he lovingly swept his eyes across her figure, eclipsed in shadow- a more beautiful silhouette he did never see.

He approached her and teased her face with his long beard. His heart gave way to melting again as he perceived her soft sigh, a sigh of longing. He kissed her forehead, her neck, her cheeks, her lips, her ears, unable to cease, unable to allow the hour to dictate their time remaining. His departure was due for the following evening, yet they both knew he would be gone before the sun rose, yet only one believed it to be a common night of frivolity. There would always be more. There always was more. Albus speared the ache in his heart as he heard another moan from Minerva, and thought no more as they both succumbed to what had been planned since the beginning of this escapade.

The present flew back to him as eternity concluded; he could hear the quiet ticking of his grandfather clock tucked away into a corner, and could hear again as though he had dreamt the entire thing. The only indication that he had not was Minerva burying her head into his chest, sighing as his warmth surrounded her when his arms engulfed her before she fell asleep at once. Albus smiled at his good fortune. Here, now, he could observe for those hours remaining of his beautiful, beautiful wife. He turned to her, how he turned to her and engraved every detail to memory to recall for the period of his life where he would wait for her to join him. The sweeping waves of her midnight hair, so perfectly surrounding her head; the brows which could command an entire fleet, but still cause his heart to give way; the head, that often spoke far more wisdom than his own; the closed eyelids which held beneath them the eyes of the most indescribable green he had ever beheld; the cheekbones which rose so precisely, so elegantly; the nose which she abhorred, but which he found most adorable; the lips, the luscious lips he knew so well; the gentle rise and fall of her chest which just endeared her all the more to him. Her state of vulnerability now, was just so tenderly magnificent and beyond all the wonders of the world that he had ever seen.

Struck swiftly with inspiration, Albus guided Minerva's sleeping arms to their respectful positions on either side of her. As he left the bed, he smiled grandly as he observed Minerva scoot to the warmth he had abandoned; how like a kitten was she!

Albus summoned his velvet plum dressing gown and tied the golden sash about him before proceeding to the drawing room they had vacated only two hours prior. He paused at the desk, and sat in the chair Minerva normally occupied. There, he constructed the final thing he would ever write, and was pleased with what he wrote. It was neither long nor short, flamboyant nor frank, but it would do. It was simple, and that was his aim…

Albus returned again unto the bed he had left and enfolded into his arms the sweet angel he had loved for decades. The sun climbed into the sky after about an hour of this, and Albus with great reluctance and regret, placed Minerva again back upon the pillows in her sweet sleep. He stroked her cheek with infinite tenderness before rising for the day, relishing in his last sunrise. He relished further upon the fact that this was also the last sleepless night he would endure before the end of all things. The end was simple; what lacked that basic simplicity was explaining to others how and why one did leave in the manner he did. His course was set, and his aim was true. He would die by another's hand tonight, and never again feel the pangs of death radiating from within his left hand. He grinned broadly at that. There were so many final things he would never miss, such as the final plea for help from the minister (though he had to admit that Rufus was more of a self-operational man… for this alone, Albus preferred him to Fudge for no longer did Ministry owls follow him wherever he went). He would never miss that. The last headache, the last sight of an empty candy tin (surely, there were more selections of the stuff wherever one went after life had ended?), the last pain in general…

But with those disagreeable, final things came the things which he had feared to lose for so long… Minerva… His face turned towards her again; she still slept, unaware to the knowledge that he faced. The burden, he knew, would be unbearable to bear if she knew beforehand, but it would be equally unbearable to bear if she knew thereafter when he had sealed his lips with wax as he had done so upon the evening before--her usual amusement with him would have no place then, he knew… Her love for him might even perish upon learning that he did not 'trust' her with such vital information. Oh, no. Whoever would assume that when he was gone would be sorely mistaken. Albus cherished her with his great love for her… he loved her so deeply that it pained him to cause her pain. To this belief he clung, for if he shielded her from pain, he had done right. Yet, if he shielded her from understanding, he had done her wrong. If these two elements were linked in such a manner as they were now, it was beyond all difficulty to reason in his mind that she needed to know and yet _didn't_ need to know. He would keep his silence, for he lived in selfishness; he would not allow their last full day together but apart laced with what would quickly become a lover's spat. He was selfish, he acknowledged as he prepared for his day without another glance to Minerva, for a glance would become a gaze, a gaze would become a longing, and he would be lost in her arms forever, never to face his preordained fate to his own will and design. Surely, unwilling murderers would acquiesce to the smoother plan of action? Severus had pleaded with him, had _implored _with him to choose a different course altogether (or a more willing killer). But no, the plan was set and it would go as planned. As long as he still could leave his chamber that morning, it would be easy to comply with a drawn-out plan.

He left without a second glance, aching in his heart for the loss Minerva would experience at his death, but heartened in the fact that she still had a piece of him remaining to discover later when her grief was the most poignant, the most painful. There, she would remember his love, his devotion, and turn her focus unto that which mattered most and move on in action, perhaps, but never in spirit. He would never leave her, and neither would she leave him.

* * *

**A/N:** _If I showed you my inspiration for this, you would think me immensely creative. My inspiration would shock you. Anyway, I have a sequel brooding at this very moment-- I say brooding because the sequel I assumed would be so simple is in fact the exact opposite. If anyone wishes it, I shall give it another swing. If not, well... I suppose it can gather dust in the farthest corner of my hard drive. Take your pick. -winks and scurries away-_


End file.
